


Heating Pad

by IMAgentMI, PFLAgentYork (Legendaerie)



Series: Post-PFL RP AU [9]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dirty Talk, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Oral Sex, Sex for Warmth, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 07:07:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17219249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IMAgentMI/pseuds/IMAgentMI, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Legendaerie/pseuds/PFLAgentYork
Summary: York gets caught in the freezing rain.  Carolina makes sure that he isn't cold for long.





	Heating Pad

As advanced as Delta is, not even he can perfectly predict the weather. York is soaked to the bone by the time he hurries the last tool into the garage, their porch swing construction delayed by the sudden cloudburst so cold it's peppered with hail. He hopes that Carolina, who is waiting for him in the doorway, doesn't spot the little pellets of ice in the flash and rumble of a mid afternoon storm.

“You did tell me so,” he grins at her, wiping rainwater and gritty sawdust off his forehead. “Last time I listen to D about how long I've got before the weather breaks, huh?” It's so cold his teeth are starting to chatter, so he locks them into a smile.

“Dammit, you beat me to it.  Can't win against me in a foot race, but you manage to beat me to ‘I told you so’ every time.”  She grins back, but as soon as he's in the door she points at him sternly. “Take off your shoes and socks, if you can.  Wait here.” Carolina turns and hurries into the bedroom.

He obeys, stripping carefully and letting himself shiver as he waits for her. York shakes his head again, surprised there isn't ice forming in his hair. This might be a bit of an issue. He doesn't want Carolina to get all tense and worried over him, and he certainly doesn't want to get a cold. So he waits, a little impatient, for her to return. Even now, he can't disobey her orders.

Carolina hurries back with a stack of towels in her arms.  She drops them all on the floor out of splash range, except for one she drapes over her shoulder.  “Let me help.”

Not bothering to pick apart the two garments, Carolina pulls York’s sweatshirt and t-shirt off together, moving carefully to keep anything from getting stuck. She pulls the towel from her shoulder and wraps it around both of his, then picks up a second towel to wipe his face and quickly scrub at his hair.  She drapes it over top of him to keep his head warm and grabs yet another towel to dry his chest and back, working in wide thorough strokes.

She drapes the damp towel over her shoulder, hissing a bit as she feels the wet through her shirt.  “Just a moment - gotta get your pants off.”

“Ooooh,” he purrs, like they don't have sex nearly every day, “how bold of you.”

She smirks back at him, then slowly works her fingers under the elastic of his sweatpants, careful not to scratch his icy skin with her nails.  York's underwear clings to his waist and she works his pants to his ankles and helps him work them off before she starts to peel down his briefs.  Carolina fights to keep the edges from rolling and lets York hold onto her shoulders as she pulls them the rest of the way off.

The next towel she wraps around his hips, drying him off from the waist down before finally wrapping the towel and herself around his hips.  Carolina presses a kiss just below his navel, and looks up. “This helping?”

"Depends,” he says, voice too unsteady to keep up his casual facade. “You planning on sticking around down there? If so, I’m gonna wanna lay down first.”  

“I want to warm the rest of you up a bit first before i get really...specific with my ministrations.” But even as she says it, Carolina noses gently against his cock, looking up as her lips brush over the terrycloth.  

York shivers, a little too chilled to get properly hard just yet. “C-come up here, then. Wanna get you wet, but not sure if you want my fingers to be cold when they slide in you or not.”

Carolina rolls the edge of the towel so it holds  up on its own and slinks up his body. “That reminds me - we need to revisit playing with ice again. But not today.  I just want to get you warm. C’mon…” With a gleam in her eye, Carolina sweeps him up into her arms, bridal style. As he shifts in her arms, the towel around his waist comes undone.  “Whoops.”

He tries to fake a swoon in her arms, but is too cold to hold the pose for long. “My hero,” York says, wrapping his arms around her neck and nuzzling her shoulder.

It's a little bit awkward getting through the door, but she manages without concussing York in the process.  She lays him down on the bed, follows in him in until she is straddling his hips. She strips off her shirt, leans forward so her chest is pressed against his, sharing her heat.  “We’ll get under the covers in a moment, but first.. “ Her next words brush against his lips. “I need to make sure your core temperature is back up.” She settles in to kiss him.

He returns the kiss eagerly, wrapping his arms around her and licking into her mouth, wondering if she can taste any of the rain in his mouth. For him, she tastes a tiny bit like the tea she must have had while he’d been out working, the same she has almost every morning. He doesn't usually drink the stuff, being too fond of coffee to stray, but he loves the taste when it's second-hand like this or when he steals a sip from her mug for the indirect kiss.

The cold is starting to fade, the damp soaking into the towels pooling around their bodies and seeping into the sheets, leaving nothing but the tingling, giddy sensation that always comes with being caught in the rain. Hard to distinguish that from the general joy he gets from being with Carolina, of course, but the combination makes him feel practically drunk, and the hands on her back sweep around to stroke down the back of her thighs, cup the curve of her ass in his palms.

“What do you think, Doctor?” he teases. “Doing better?”

“Prognosis is positive, but I believe the patient requires bed rest. A little exercise would be good as well, to keep the circulation strong.  Something to get the heart beating a little faster. But first we have to get you under the covers.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” and he reaches behind her to pull the blankets up, draping it over her shoulders.

“You know,” she continues conversationally, “They say the best way to warm someone is to cuddle with them, while both are naked.  You're already there, but I still have a few left to go.” She leans down further to nuzzle his cheek, letting her mouth stray down to his earlobe.  She takes it between her lips, then gives a little chirp. “Oh no… you're cold here. Let me take care of this while you unhook my bra?”

The sound he makes could be considered a reply, but the way he fumbles with her clothing makes it hard for anyone to believe that he could have ever been considered a security specialist. When Carolina puts a little bit of teeth into the gesture he all but squeals, letting go of the half-clipped strap to snap against her skin.

The jolt makes her stiffen in his arms, accidentally nipping harder than she intended, and she presses a kiss to his neck in apology.  But soon one kiss becomes two, then three, and her lips part as her tongue tastes his skin, wetting it before she settles in to suck another possessive hickey to mark him as hers.

As much as he loves this, it does make it harder to concentrate. It feels like it takes forever to unclip her bra, and after his hand immediately slide back down her waist to pull at her leggings and panties. 

Carolina pulls back enough to shrug her bra the rest of the way off, and wiggles a little as he works at her leggings.  Her teeth touch his neck just enough to get his attention before she rolls onto her back with a murmured apology, discarding her leggings for him.

Once she's free she's right back on him, stretching out to cover as much of his body with hers as possible.  “Not quite as good as a heated blanket, but I don't think you'll mind.” Tucking her head against his, Carolina sighs, content, before giving his ear another nip.

York shifts under her, slithering a hand between them to adjust his cock into a more comfortable position and can’t resist giving it a little stroke. It's impossible to not be hard under her, but he loves having her like this as well - sensual but not sexual, compassionate and dominant both. And, of course, he loves it when she gets her mouth all over him.

“So much better than blankets,” he promises, smoothing his hands up and down her sides, enjoying the way they can travel all over her body now with no clothing between them, savoring how firm and soft and smooth she is. York kisses her gently, his touches firming until it's almost a massage as she lounges on top of him.

“Oooh, that's nice.”  Carolina pauses a moment to enjoy his touch, arching a shoulder or tensing a muscle to draw his attention and hands to a new spot.  It would be easy to relax into his movements but instead she shifts over him, leaning on her forearms on either side of his head, burying both hands into his hair.

York's hair is starting to show more grey at the temples, and Carolina treasures every single one. Each is a sign that they outlived the program, survived every mission, and even if the danger hasn't completely passed, for now they feel safe. 

She separates locks between her fingers, brushing her fingernails against his scalp.  Her thumbs glide over his temples, and she leans down to press a line of kisses along his hairline.  “How does that feel?”

“Perfect,” he sighs, his own touches slowing down as he’s distracted by hers. “Just like you.”

Carolina shifts back down to kiss each of his eyes, the tip of York's nose and lingered long at his mouth. “Warm enough yet?”

“Mmm-hmm.” Warm enough he's getting sleepy, soothed by her hands in his hair, savoring this casual intimacy. York cracks an eye open and steals a kiss.

“I'll try not to get you too hot, if you want to take a nap.”  None to nose, Carolina leaves the decision in his hands. 

“I'm not that old,” he complains, squeezing her closer to him, grinning at the soft crush of her breasts against his chest. “Just like you touching me, is all. Is it soft enough for you?” he asks, tilting his head into her hands, encouraging more scritches as he moves his hands down to her hips, kneading her ass on his way down to her thighs. God, he loves her thighs.

“So soft,” Carolina breathes, tracing circles through York's hair.  “I like it this length. Not too shaggy, but-" she takes two careful handfuls of his hair, “-gives me something to hold on to.”  She holds her grip another couple seconds longer, then releases, going back to lazy scratches along his scalp.

York can't hide the little groan that slips out with that, and he swears his dick twitches. “I aim to please,” he rumbles, hands back to massaging her everywhere he can reach, little light circles with his fingertips, careful not to move too much as to disturb her. “Feels good for me, too.”

“I know it does. That's why I like it so much. I love that moment when you bliss out and give in, when I know I could do anything I want with you. I love knowing that you  _ want _ me to do anything I want.  Take anything I want.” Carolina’s grip tightens again, tilting York’s head back and exposing his neck.  She holds him there, eyes lazily taking him in.

He wonders if she can feel how hard that makes his heart beat; as relaxed and pliant as he is under her, Carolina has his complete attention now. York swallows, tracing the curve of her lower back.

“I love you,” he murmurs, “and I really love being all yours. Only yours. Always have been. Even--” his breath catches in his throat, worried that he could ruin the moment but wanting her to know the depth of his devotion. “Even in the Project, I was yours.”

“You were mine,” Carolina repeats, deceptively mild.  “You are mine. And God help whoever tries to take you from me.”  

Her open-mouthed kisses against his neck are magma hot, cooled only when she pulls back to breathe, panting softly against his wet skin. Carolina glories in the way York stays still and submissive beneath her, truly allowing her to take what she wants. But she already has - all she wants is him.

“D’y’ever think,” he slurs, gently molding his body to fit hers, letting his chin list to the side to give her better access, “how jealous someone might have been? Seeing me, and knowing I wouldn't so much as see them for how beautiful you are? Wanting me, but unable to touch because I've always belonged to you?”

“No. Never did. No one will ever touch you again but me. No one will taste you but me.” It's hard though, in some deliciously petty way, not to feel satisfied at the idea.  York is hers right down to the marrow of his bones and to think that he turned heads on the ship, that he broke hearts because he saw no one but her…

...good.

“Part of me still wishes I could have paraded you through the entire ship, wearing nothing but my bites and hickeys.” She growls. “Prove to everyone you are mine.  _ God _ , York.”  

The need to mark him, to claim him, to show him off in front of the world is much easier to appease now, but this strange regret lingers. 

“I dream about this sometimes,” she confesses. “Of fucking you on the sparring mats in front of hundreds of people, making you scream my name, babble your devotion for everyone to see. I want them all to hear you tell me I'm the best, I'm your only, you love me, you belong to me.  And when you've said enough, I want them to watch you lose your mind as I ride you, as I wring your come out of you.” The image alone is enough to make her instantly wet, but she has already been there a while.

York moans under her, gripping her to him almost painfully, too caught up in her fantasy to care if she can feel his cock nudge the back of her thigh. “Hahhhh,” he chokes, “holy shit, I wish-- wish we could’ve. Fuck. Fuck, that's so--”

Her hand in his hair is the only thing keeping him from rolling them over, to grabbing her by the hips and shoving her those precious inches backwards and coax her onto his cock. As it is, he writhes under her, head and shoulders still but the rest of his body fighting to rub against her; but the way she’s straddling just above his hips gives him nothing.

“Fuck, fuck, I would have-- I could have, you know? Just-- god, I wanted that sometimes too, to be-- so thoroughly  _ yours _ .”

“Oh you are, York.” Carolina loosens one hand to stroke a knuckle down his cheek, slow and soft as a teardrop. “Maybe it's good that I didn't know how much you would have liked it. Seeing you now, like this… I don't think I could have stopped myself from hauling you out in front of everyone on that ship, and laying waste to your sanity on the mats.  Watching you go mad and loving it.” 

Carolina bends down for more slow wet kisses to his neck before dragging a tooth over delicate skin.  “Tell me you love me, York. Tell me how much you love it when I fuck you.”

“I love you, I love you, I love you so much, I love you-- love everything about you and especially this, like this, when you--” his mind skips back to years prior, to her harsh training and how merciless she could be with her blows in sparring, “--get like this, get hard and determined and I trust you, I know you, and you love me so I know that I can follow you, listen to you, trust you with everything and let you push-- push me, pull me, bite me and hurt me so fucking good because you know me, too--”

He loses track of his own words when his helpless grinding runs his abs against her sex and he feels how wet she’s getting, just from this.

“Fuck me, Carolina, but first ride my goddamn face, please, wanna-- wanna taste how wet I'm makin’ you like this, wanna have you keep pulling my hair and use my mouth and tongue--”

The noises York makes when she kisses him are exquisite - surprise, want and satisfaction all at once. And when she pulls his arms from around her, pinning his hands to the bed and tightening her legs against him, the sound drops an octave, to something half feral that sets a fire in her skin.  By the time Carolina has her tongue in his mouth, the moans she makes are just as hungry and unrestrained.

“You want me to fuck your face, York?” Carolina is breathless when she finally pulls away, dizzy with need.  “You want me to ride you? Let you fuck me with your tongue until I am screaming with how good it feels? Is that what you want, York?”

“Please,” he groans, deep and desperate. “Please, please, Carolina, please.” Under her grasps he squirms but doesn't fight, doesn't push back. He loves feeling how strong she is, how pleased she is to win.

“Okay.” There's a swoop of dark satisfaction at the change that flickers over York's face - the way his jaw goes slack, the way his eyes flicker as though in danger of rolling up into his head. And she hasn't even dealt him the full blow yet. “I'll give you what you want, but on one condition.”

Without taking her eyes from his, Carolina leans to the side, sliding open the drawer in her bedside table, and closing her fingers around cold metal. She gives York a slow smile, and pulls out the new pair of handcuffs.

“Oh,” and it feels like she knocked the wind out of him with that, stunning him and leaving him breathless and silly. “Oh, ohhh god yes,” York keens, eager to hold his wrists up for her, “fuck yes, tie me up, tie me down-- when did--? You know what, I'll just assume you're magic. Do it, Carolina. I'm  _ begging _ you.”

“You know how much I love to hear you beg, York.”  It doesn't take Carolina long to restrain him, but she takes her time, savouring each click as the cuffs tighten around York's wrists.  As soon as he is chained, she dips down for a kiss that at any other time would be considered chaste - but the word hardly seems to apply when she is cuffing her lover to a bed, hot and wet with arousal as she straddles him.  But she holds back a little longer to check on him. “Are you comfortable? Is this okay?”

He shuffles the cuffs around, finding a comfortable position for his hands. “Yeah,” he says, satisfied, grinning up at her as he settles into the cushions. “Now c’mere,” and he makes a show of licking his lips. “I wanna taste you,” York rumbles.

One hand reaches up to brush her fingers tenderly through his hair, twirling a lock gently through her fingers. “You are so good, York. You make me feel so good, so happy to hear it.”  Her other hand closes around his cock again, stroking him as she praises him. 

“Are you ready to show me what else you're good at? Show me how good you are with your tongue? I want to ride your face, York. I want you to show me just how much you like it.”

“Yeah. Yeah, yes, I want it too--” his mouth is watering in anticipation and he pulls on the cuffs, relishing the bite of the cold metal against his skin just as he relished the soft chill of the rain. “Wanna  _ drown _ under you.”

“You make me wet enough.  You're so goddamn hot, York.”  Carolina gives him a few last firm strokes, then rises to her knees. She moves up the bed, throwing a leg over top of him and lining herself up with his mouth.  Both hands gripping the headboard, Carolina lowers herself down to him.

Impatient, he meets her halfway, nuzzling her as he licks around her opening, drinking in the thick taste of her desire. York moans, pressing his face against her before relaxing against the cushions as she settles just close enough for him to easily reach her. The tip of his tongue strokes her clit and she takes in a sharp breath.

Normally, this is where he might talk dirty to her; ask how she likes it, how it feels, try to talk her into a frenzy as he fucks her with his fingers. Here his hands are tied, and his tongue shapes filthy sentiments around the lips of her vagina instead, circling the swollen sensitive flesh with just the promise of the depth and stimulation she loves.

“Fuck, York.”  Carolina barks a laugh, and looks down at what little of him she can see.  “I give you what you want and you decide you want to play?” It takes real effort not to thrust against him, but she does reach down with one hand to thread her fingers through his hair, to tighten them briefly, pulling him tight against her, then loosening her grip.  

York moans again, louder this time, coaxing her to do it again as he licks a little deeper into her. It's hard to get that deep with his tongue alone, but he does the best he can, neck straining to get as close to her as he can and craving more.

“Don't be gentle,” he rasps. “You've been gentle all day. Take what you need from me. I love that, too.”

This time Carolina rakes both sets of fingernails across York's scalp before seizing his hair.  “Sounds good to me.” She pulls him up hard, waiting for the wet caress of his tongue before she begins to roll her hips.  “Fuck yes. God York, I am going to make a fucking mess of you.”

It's bliss and torture both, to be helpless under her and completely untouched, unable to touch her in turn save for where she lets him. Her grip on his hair is the only thing holding him to reality, as his breathing goes ragged and his awareness narrows down to a few key elements - heat around his mouth, pooling in the base of his hips; the chill of the air against his dripping, neglected cock and the metal of the cuffs. Everything he feels is complementary opposites, and it feels fitting of their marriage and how their strengths and weaknesses balance each other. Which of them is fire and which is ice is entirely up to the moment, but here and now all York knows is that they’re in harmony. 

Had he enough breath to hum into her skin, he might have crooned a love song. Instead he flattens his tongue against her and lets her grind on it, take her pleasure out on him, and grins, damn near giddy with it all already.

There was a time when Carolina would have hesitated, struggled with guilt at the idea of using York like this.  To take and take and take, to use him for her pleasure, pushing his body to its limits, to the point of pain - it was more than she could bring herself to do.  But she has learned his limits, learned how much she can push him and still cause more pleasure than pain, and now she is uninhibited, riding his face with abandon.  She still has a hold of his hair but lets his head rest on the bed, her hips and praise rolling over him as she fucks herself on his mouth, his tongue, only slowing to give him a chance to breathe.  It takes real effort to lift herself off York, and even the mere heat of his breath is enough to drive her wild.

“You okay?” she asks, breathing hard.  Her fingers are shaking as she touches his cheek, and even now her hips seem to move on their own, her body eager to claim him again.

“Mmm,” he growls, voice gone hoarse as he licks as much of the mess on his face he can. “Come back. Wanna taste it when you come, just from my mouth.”

“Goddammit, York,” she whispers, hurriedly mounting him again.  “Make me come, you filthy, sexy bastard. Because after you do, I am going to fuck you so good that—“

The rest of her words are lost in her cry as he thrusts his tongue as deep as he can inside her, swirling it around to fill her as best as he can. His entire body strains to be as close to her as possible, arms pulling tight against the cuffs until he has to grip the headboard or risk breaking them. It's worth it, a hundred times over, to feel her double over, body shaking as she clutches at the headboard with one hand, and blindly strokes his hair with the other.

Carolina moans, low and feral, body bucking against him.  Her movements are wild, uncoordinated, desperate to find that last angle, that perfect touch to push her over the edge.  “York...York soooo close…”

There’s nothing more he can give her like this; all he can do is hum into her skin, keep the ruinous pace he’s set, and wait. He doesn’t have to for long. A minute at the most of him fucking her with his tongue and he feels the shudder of her inner muscles in time with an absolutely brutal yank on his hair. York takes a shallow breath through his nose and holds it as Carolina crushes herself against him, her entire body tightening as her pleasure reaches its peak.

With no neighbors, with no reason to hide what they are doing, Carolina doesn't hold back. Each breath is half scream, half groan, and loud enough to be heard nearly to the road. Each exhalation is still accompanied with a thrust of her hips, both slowing in time with the tremors of her orgasm.  She tries to brace herself more solidly against the headboard as her body relaxes, distantly aware that York is underneath her, and she rises on her knees to avoid smothering him completely.

“You- you okay down there?”

Gasping for breath and grinning, York offers a shaking thumbs up in the cuffs.

It takes a second for Carolina to pull herself together enough to lift her leg over York without kneeing him in the face, and even when she does, she still collapses next to him to get her breath back. She twists enough to kiss his shoulder. “Just need a sec.”  Carolina runs a hand over his abs and gives a tiny moan of despair to find his skin so cold. “Oh, can't have that. I'm supposed to be warming you.” 

Carolina pushes herself back up to sitting and hesitates, gesturing to the handcuffs.  “Do you want those off? Take a break? Or keep them on?”

“Could use a break,” he mumbles; resists the urge to tease her as she fumbles with the cuffs. When he’s finally free York immediately wraps his arms around her, pulling them snug together on their sides and kisses her on the nose.

“Hi,” he says, for no real reason, and makes a show of licking his lips. “Have fun up there?”

“Mmm.”  Carolina allows herself to relax, to melt against York, tucking her head in against his neck and pressing a kiss there.  “Of course it was fun. You always show me a good time.”

“Good,” he purrs, putting his hands on Carolina’s waist as she rolls over atop him.

“Let’s see if I can't get you warmed up again.” Despite the sleepiness that makes her want to pull the blankets up over them both and cuddle York until she drifts off, it only takes a kiss to start to get Carolina's blood up again.  One kiss gives way to a second, then a third, her hands leading the way down York's body, and Carolina's mouth follows. His lips are red and swollen, hot to the touch against her own. Her kisses make an unbroken line down his cheek, slow and patient and thorough.  Once she reaches his ear she blindly searches out his hand, weaving their fingers together before she applies her teeth, settling herself to straddle his hips. “This helping at all? Feeling warmer yet?”

“Carolina,” and her name comes out with a rasp, York having missed the words in her question but catching the teasing tone. “Carolina,” he says again, like he’s making up for lost time when she’d smothered all his sweet phrases. “Carolina,” one more time for good measure, his back slowly arching, hips canting down with the hopes of finding that perfect angle to slide inside her, and he pulls her mouth back for a kiss.

Carolina licks along the edges of York's lips, an equally obscene mimicry of his actions mere minutes ago, tasting herself on his skin nearly as strongly as he did on hers.  “God you taste good. Or maybe I do?” She laughs, eyes dark and burning before she kisses him again, her tongue chasing the flavour inside his own mouth.

He’s back to rubbing his hands along her sides, with more insistence now, a burning hunger smouldering in each kiss. “It’s us,” he murmurs, running his fingers through her hair until they catch in a tangle. 

“You're probably right,” she whispers against his lips, unwilling to pull back further.  “Which means when you pull out of me in a bit and I suck both of our juices off your cock, it will be delicious.”  Carolina turns her head down slightly, drawing his eyes as she reaches one hand down between her legs. She brings it back into view a moment later, making sure he notices the way her fingertips glisten before she delicately sucks each one.  “I'm ready. Now all I need is you.”

For a moment, want wipes his mind completely blank. York stares up at her, hands frozen in her hair and resting on her hip before he rolls them over with a move that he absolutely learned from her on the sparring mats.

“Condoms,” he gasps, holding himself up over her with one shaking hand as the other reaches for the bedside table, yanking the drawer out with so much force it nearly falls out of the desk. 

Carolina reaches out to seize his wrist. “I'm serious, I want to taste me on you when I suck the come off your cock. Can't do that with a condom.”  Her other hand trails down his stomach and her grip on his wrist tightens when she feels him buck. “I want you to feel me, York. I want you to slide in, feel me hot and wet for you and lose your goddamn mind.” 

“You--” he cuts himself off; of course she’s sure, he can see it in the way her eyes devour him, dark and demanding. The rest of his breath comes out in a trembling moan, pitching upwards into a squeak. “On top? You want-- where--?”

“I'll start on top.”  Carolina pulls his hand back in, settling it on her breast. “We’ll see where I end up once your self-control snaps. I want to drive you crazy—" Her hand closes around his cock as she uses the other to close his hand tight on her breast. She kisses him at the same time, fierce and hungry, letting her teeth linger against his lip. “—And I think you're already halfway there.”

She lets go of his lip and cock a second before she flips them, putting some muscle into the move to make it more of a pounce than merely rolling over.  Both sets of nails dig into York's chest as she shifts down, positioning herself so the head of his cock is sliding along her opening. In two passes, he's already coated with her and sliding freely. “Feel that, York?  You feel how much I want you?” Carolina bends down to nuzzle against his jaw. “You ready? Or am I going to have to do all the work tonight?”

“Yes,” he wails, struggling to angle his hips just right and failing as she teases him. “Yes, yes, please, please yes--”

“Yes what?” Carolina drops her voice to a whisper, lips ghosting over his throat. “Yes you can feel it? Yes I'll have to do all the work? Yes boss? Use your words, York.  I'm waiting.” She bares her teeth, dragging them along his skin.

It takes him a minute to process her words and articulate a reply - a long minute as he squirms under her, the gentle heat of her body as she just barely moves along him wringing out gasps and whines. He keeps his hands above him as though they’re cuffed, flexing them into fists but making no move to stop her. “Yes-- I feel it, boss-- I-- I want it so badly--” 

“Do you really?  Does that mean I should guide you in?  You seem to be having a little trouble.  Is this a little too  _ hard _ for you?”  To keep him overwhelmed, Carolina begins to suck a hickey into his neck as she grips him by the base of the cock.  She tilts him up so just his head is stroking along her slit. Carolina sucks hard against his skin, pulling off with a wet pop before grinning down at him.  “This better? Or do I need to help you with this part too?”

His hands snap to her thighs, loud enough the slap is audible alongside his choked gasp. Immediately he strokes her skin in apology, tilting his head back and closing his eyes.

“Ffffffuck,” York grits, sinking his teeth into his lower lip. “You’re having fun, ain’t ya?” His fingertips press into her flesh once, twice as he fights to regain control. “Good-- ‘s good, I love it-- hahhhhh, fuck, that’s--”

“That's what, York?” Carolina is all smiles watching him, and she keeps his cock moving against her in firm strokes between her legs.  She hums with enjoyment, making sure he sees her eyes half-close, the way she bites her lip before turning her attention back to him again.  “How much more can you take? How much longer can you make yourself wait, knowing I'm hot and wet and horny, waiting for you to break and fuck me?  I'm ready for you, York. Ready for you to come home. Ready to take you so deep, lock my legs around you and never let you out. All you have to do is push in.  You're so close. Can you hold out? Or are you ready to come so hard you forget your own name?” 

The nice thing is, York has never minded losing. Not that any observer could tell here as he bares his teeth in a snarl, yanks Carolina down to sink them into her shoulder in a sharp bite, and rolls them both over to plunge into her. He doesn't wait for her to adjust this time, already falling into a rough pace that makes her entire body jolt with each thrust, but the kiss he presses over the indents left by his teeth is overwhelmingly tender.

“Who’s winning now?” York moans into her ear; not taunting but genuinely curious.

“I am.” Carolina gasps, pressing her head back onto the mattress before wrapping her legs around him, sliding her thighs over his hips before locking her ankles behind his back.  “Did you really think this wasn't exactly what I wanted? I know you, York. And I know how to break you in the best ways possible.”

He bites her again on her other shoulder, all sharp teeth and sexual frustration. “Pretty sure-- I'm winning too,” he manages, gripping her hips with both hands to adjust her angle to get ever deeper inside her with each thrust. She’s so wet he’s soaked with it, so hot and slick around him it's making him lose his mind, boil him down to nothing but the need to fuck. “Aaaaahh,” and the sound he makes is almost agonized, “shit that's good, that's--”

Carolina seizes him by the hips, jerking him even harder against her, tightening her muscles around his cock, breath coming hard and harsh in her throat.  “Maybe it feels like you are, but I'm still holding your reins. You can gallop all you want, but we both know I've already broken your spirit.” Carolina rolls them again, straddling York, holding his shoulders down, picking up their rhythm again  as though there had been no interruption. “And now that my stallion has been put to pasture, time to use you as a stud? Breed you?” 

“Yes-- yes yes, ahhh fuck, fuck, Caroli--” 

It’s all too much for York’s self control - the things he wants the most voiced by her, phrased so filthy as Carolina sinks her fingernails into his shoulders. He doesn’t have time to warn her, his entire body on fire as his words dissolve into howls, his eyes rolling back in his head as he comes, violently, underneath her. 

“Good… good.  Give it all to me, York.” If Carolina slows at all, it's only to lengthen the stroke, and the change draws a moan out of her, low and feral. “I want it. I want it all.  I want all of you, York. Every piece.  _ Every drop _ .”

She lowers herself over him, so close that she shares every breath with him. “Tell me when to stop, otherwise I might not. I want to fuck you forever, fuck you to exhaustion. Tell me when it’s too much, because I can't get enough of you, but I'll damn well try until you tell me you're done.”

There’s no thought to his obedience. It’s as though she has a direct line to his brain, and her command is his will. York holds onto her as though clinging for dear life, helping her ride him with shaking hands, screams slowly fading into sobs of pleasure. “You too, you too,” he gasps, eyes fluttering open but unable to focus on the shape of her above him. “You too, wanna feel it here too, my boss, my love, my Carolina.”

His tenderness breaks her in a way that even his deepest thrusts couldn't, and she presses her forehead to his, her hands holding them together as tightly as possible, voice choked to barely a whisper.  “I love you.”

Then she's gone, every muscle seizing up as she comes, so hard that it might leave bruises on him later.  Carolina shakes like she might fly to pieces any second, unable to keep moving on him, unable to do anything more than keep breathing and ride out the wave of pleasure overwhelming her body.

When she finally comes down, they do it together; York stroking a soothing pattern along her back, nuzzling her mouth with parted lips as he catches his breath. He’s still inside her, hyper-sensitive to every subtle shift of her body, but he can feel her heartbeat through her inner muscles. It strikes a chord in him, one that makes him feel as fragile as wet paper and strong enough to tear steel in half with his bare hands. He rubs their noses together, slow and gentle, and catches her as the last bit of tension leaves her body.

It's contentment as much as exhaustion that drags her down.  A contagious laziness, spreading from York to her and back again, that leaves her willing to spend the rest of the evening staring into his eyes, running her hands over every familiar line of his body. She feels like she could stay in this moment forever - warm, peaceful, loving and loved. 

Carolina returns his touch with a nuzzle of her own, the nudge of her nose as gentle as a kiss.  “Marry me.”

This cracks a smile out of him. “We’re already married,” York replies with laughter running under his vowels.

“I told you, I can't get enough of you. Marry me again.  Every day. Twice a day. Marry me as soon as you open your eyes, and again before we climb into bed. And every time you kiss me.  Every time I make you smile. God, I love you, York. There isn't enough time in one life to show you how much.” Her hand slides behind his neck, cupping over his long unused port in her familiar gesture of protection. “We are so lucky to have the one we do.”

“Oh,” he says, softly, blinking up at her as she starts to blur in his vision. “I-- I will. I do. And-- if there’s other lives that we get to live after this one, I know I’ll love you in all of those, too.”

York makes a face as he presses his palm against his eyes, taking in a sharp breath. “Ah, sorry, I’m just--” It’s no use. Fighting it just makes it worse. He drops his arms in favor of smiling up at her again. “You really got me good this time didn’t you? Fucked me like a bitch. Now I’m crying like one.” He sniffs again, shaking his head.

“If you're crying because you love me, if you're crying because you're happy…” Carolina brushes her lips over his face, finding the wet salty patches and lines and kisses them away, taking her time to go over every inch of his skin.  She is nearly done when a new spot appears, splashing on his skin. “Shit, sorry, that one's mine.” She kisses away that drop too with a laugh, and a second one that falls from her to him.

When he's dry from everything but her kisses, she relaxes into his arms again, matching his breathing to his.  “If I made you so happy that you cried every day from joy, I think we are living right.”

“Yeah, but it’d get pretty dehydrating,” he teases, desperate to get a laugh out of her. When she obliges him he shifts under her, letting her nestle closer to him and groaning as he feels the mess start to pool around the base of his cock. “We should just-- get a mini fridge in here. Stock it with sports drinks for all this exercise. Maybe put down plastic drop cloths or something for the mess.”

“I've already thought of that.” Carolina lifts her head to grin at him.  “Already thinking ahead to when we are trying to conceive. Trying to figure out how to keep you alive for three days of non-stop fucking. The good news is… I think Delta already has it all figured out. The bad news is,” Carolina grins wider as she leans down to kiss him, “...I think Delta already has it all figured out.”  

“Don't speak his name,” York laments, even as he smiles back into the kiss. “He’s like Beetlejuice, say it too much and he’ll appear.”

“Well, at least I don't have to worry about you two being on such good terms that he’s making audio recordings for you of you completely wrecking me during sex.”  Carolina starts laughing again, but breaks off suddenly. “Wait, why the hell would I worry about that?” She leans down to kiss him, a completely different kind of smile spreading over her face.  “That's actually really hot -- the idea of you listening to me screaming your name as I come. You'd never jerk off to it though, because we both know that in seconds you'd be tracking me down and we would be fucking against a wall somewhere.” 

The wink she gives him is absolutely filthy, and made only worse by the way she catches his lip in her teeth and hums with humour and enjoyment.

“You are two orgasms in, how do you have this much pep?” York notes, rolling her onto her back and pulling out with a wince. “But… yeah, true enough. Now that I've got the real thing I'm never gonna want to settle. You promised, every surface, every room. We’ve still got a lot to go, don't we?”

With those words, he starts to kiss down her body, keeping his eyes on her as he works all the way down to the mess between her thighs.

Carolina breathes deeply and rests one hand on York's head, more to simply touch him rather than to guide. “My God, do you have any idea how much I love you, how hot you are? You light me on fire, York. But,” she squirms a tiny bit, the lower he goes, “things are still kinda… sensitive.  Gentle.”

He hums in response, sucking gently on the inside of her thigh, too light to leave a mark but enough to clean off some of their mess. “I know,” he murmurs, and each stroke of his tongue is feather light. “I won't hurt you.”

With that, he slips the tip of his tongue along the inner lips of her sex, tracing the still-hot flesh and licking up the mess he’d left inside her.

Carolina tilts her head back against the mattress, not trusting herself to watch him.  Her body has already been through plenty today, and even these light touches are enough to send oversensitive nerves on the edge of too much.  But the softness, the tenderness of his touch as tongue and lips mover over the inside of her thighs, up along her slit, it's enough to make her ache for him all over again.  And the obscene wet sound he makes, that tiny barely there hum of satisfaction as he works takes that ache and makes it need. 

When York pulls back to check his work  Carolina tightens her legs against his sides.  “Please. Don't stop.”

“Don't know whether to be disappointed I can't wear you out,” he rumbles as he returns to lap at her skin, “or flattered you can't get enough of me.”

“Be flattered.” Carolina’s body trembles as York's tongue glides over her, wide, flat and relaxed.  “Be very, very flattered.” She lets out a long shuddering breath and tries to relax.

He grins again, daring to suck the wet skin where her thigh meets her hip. “I am. Every day.” The fingers of his free hand mirror his mouth’s path on the other hip, still gentle but with enough pressure to tease. York can't decide if he wants to try to get her going for a third, but he wants her to enjoy his cleanup for sure.

“God,” Carolina’s head turns to the side, eyes squeezing tight as she loses the fight to relax. “Why can't we just start like this?  From now on, eat your come out of me first, and then I'll fuck your brains out.” She manages to lift her head enough to meet his eyes, give him a weak smile, before flopping back down.

“Gotta come inside you first to eat it out of you,” he reminds her, continuing his attentions along the inside of her thigh and pressing the edges of his teeth along the muscle there. For the most part, he’s done, and licks his lip as he settles back down between her legs, pressing a kiss just below her navel. “Want me to go a little deeper? Or is it still too much?”

“Don't bring logic into it. Let me have my fantasies.”  Carolina settles back with a sigh, but just like that, it's over.  “Ah. Ah- York, I gotta stop. Thats- Ah! That's enough.” 

Obedient, he pulls back, crawling up her body to drop on the mattress next to her with enough force that she bounces. “As you wish,” York says, and pulls her next to him again. 

“So…” Carolina turns on her side to let him cuddle up close, and when he drapes his arm over her side, she smiles as she clasps his hand, kisses it.  “Feeling better? Warm enough now?”

“Very much so. You’re too hot,” and he squeezes her ass, “how could I not?”

Instead of swatting his hand away, Carolina places hers over top of his, and gives another squeeze.  “Good, that's what I was trying to do. Now we have five minutes to cuddle and feel like normal people again, then we gotta get up.  We have shit to do. And unlike you,“ Carolina twists her head to give him a wink, “I haven't had anything to eat recently.”

“Could make soup. It's a day for soup.” The kiss he gives her is lazy and doesn't carry a trace of their mingled tastes.

“Soup it is then.”  Carolina makes to get up, but then turns back to take in York's naked body as he lingers in bed. “Does this planet get snow, do you think?”

“If it does, I bet it's terrible,” he says with a grin. “Probably like…  acid snow. Or it's yellow.”

“Oh that  _ would _ be terrible.  Yellow snow everywhere.  That would put me off snow angels permanently.”  Carolina reaches down to pick a tiny piece of lint off York's chest. “Guess we'd be spending a lot of time indoors with the curtains closed until spring.”

“What a  _ shame _ ,” he purrs, drawing out the last vowel as he strokes his thumb along her hipbone. Another kiss, too, deep and slow, and he squeezes her again before sliding his hand up, tracing the dip and swell of her side.

“Better count those five minutes,” York notes. “I could spend hours like this. Just feeling you, all warm and soft.”

“I think it's been upgraded to ten.” Carolina cuddles back close and shuts her eyes.  “Can't be too careful when you are treating hypothermia.” She yawns widely. 

“Will do, boss,” he agrees, tucking her under his chin and relaxing with a sigh, letting his eyes drift closed.

\------

Small mercy that the sound Delta uses to wake them up isn't as obnoxious or frightening as a smoke alarm. It's a delicate bell sound, and York cracks an eye open; rolls on top of Carolina as though somehow his body could muddle the noise.

“ _ It has been 24 minutes. The ideal time for a power nap.” _

York holds up a middle finger, knowing full well Delta cannot see him. It makes him feel better, however.

Underneath him, Carolina stirs, but doesn't open her eyes. She manages to lift an arm enough to wrap it around his waist and gives a happy sigh.  “My favourite blanket.”

“Good after-morning to you too,” and he wiggles, settling more comfortably on top of her. Comfortably for him, at least. If she squeals, he pretends he doesn't hear it. She can throw him across the room if she wants him off. “And good noon-night.”

“We were gonna make soup, right?” Carolina yawns noisily, right next to York's ear, then pets one hand down his hair and back in apology.  She sweeps her hand from side to side over his lower back, fingers teasing the skin just above his ass. “My stomach is going to be louder than my mouth in short order.”

“We were,” he agrees, managing to sound despondent as he nuzzles her neck. “Still a solid plan, but it  _ does _ involve moving.”

“True,” she concedes, and gives a sigh of pure regret. “But if we don't start moving soon, we could stay in bed the whole day and not be able to sleep tonight. And we will still be hungry.”

With a grunt and one last peck on her nose, York rolls off her and onto his feet. “Shame no one delivers out here,” he observes, hunting through his clothes for clean ones. Most of them are on the floor, as usual - he checks a pair of sweatpants with a quick sniff and tosses it in the hamper with a grimace. Next pair is fine, though, and he gets boxers out of the drawers because not even  _ he _ would be that brave. Socks, too, because it is really cold and he can still hear the occasional gust of wind outside.

While he’s up and Carolina hides under the warm blankets, York fetches clothes for her too, tossing each article over his shoulder as he finds it. Their mutual favorite hoodie is discovered at the bottom of the clean clothes bin, and York sneaks a surreptitious look her way to see if she saw him find it. If she asks, he’ll pass it over. If not, he’ll wear the massive, impossibly soft thing himself.

Meanwhile, Carolina slowly manages to roll onto her side, still covered by a layer of blankets. “I’m… making progress.  Look at me go.” She finally works up the energy to sit up, and flings the blankets aside.

“Fuck!”

Carolina scrambles to grab the blankets again, struggling to pull them back over her until she is a quivering hidden ball in the center of the bed. “It is  _ cold _ . Seriously, was it this cold when we got in here?”

“I don't know. D?”

“ _ The temperature continues to fall as the cold front passes over. It is not impossible the house is cooler as well.” _

“Just--” York gestures as he yanks the massive sweater on-- “dress under the blankets or something. Don't tell me you don't know how to do that?”

“I think I can manage,” Carolina responds, tartly.  She pokes her head out of the blankets again, giving him a glare with a smile behind It, grabbing a pair of panties and disappearing back under the covers again, an arm snaking out to grab the sweats a moment later.

When she peeks back out, turtle-like a moment later, she searches around the surface of the bed.  “No bra?” After a second she grabs the t-shirt he left for her. “It's fine, you're the one who will have to look at my nipples poking through my shirt anyway.  Oh my god that's  _ cold _ !”  She shivers as she pulls the shirt the rest of the way down.  Carolina smoothes the shirt over her stomach and then looks down.  “See?”

“I have a solution,” he crows, offering her a hand out of bed. She follows, head tilted with a smile, and as soon as her feet hit the ground he yanks the hem of his sweater over her head, enveloping them both in in. The neck is loose, cowl-shaped, and he helps her tug it out of the way so she can poke her head through. The sleeves aren't quite large enough for both their arms, so York slithers in his left arm and guides Carolina’s down the sleeve.

“Success!” and his left arm squeezes her to him as he drops a kiss on her cheek.

“Mmm...you were already cuddly.  Now you're like… cuddly squared.”  Carolinas sigh is pure contentment as she leans back against his chest.  “Soooo...are we going to make soup like this?”

“Yes. Somehow. Or at least until we can turn the heat up.” York snatches the hoodie she’d left on the bed and ties it around his shoulders like a cape. “Now, c’mon. There's nothing about this situation that can't be improved with us trying to work with boiling water and knives.” 

“Well, since you put it  _ that _ way,” Carolina leans back to look up at him and nudges the inside of York's ankle with her own, “I know where there is a whole pantry of canned soup. We're less likely to chop off fingers with a can opener? I hope?  It would be faster too, and I am starving.”

“This is why I married you, Lina bean,” he details as they shuffle together towards the pantry. “You and your sensibility.”

  
  
  
  



End file.
